The StreetUnder lamps as tall as trees
And loud or laughing conversations buzzing like bees,
There lies an old grey street.
Many a car and pedestrian
Has its cracked sidewalks and faded line-paint seen,
And policemen, gazes keen.
Small children playing ball
As mothers yell warnings, using full names and all,
Summer sun, bright and hot.
But not just as a playground
Has its purpose served, but also drug-dealer spots
And beds for bums, minus cots.
The people wear old eyes,
Jaded, faded, and worn with time's desperate cries,
Aged beyond rightful age.
Slow steps walk the street,
Shuffling and dragging like nowhere is worth going,
Dull sky and lifeless world;
Even the yellow paint is cheerless, even if it's curled
In its sharp, winding turns.
Hope is scarce, love more so
And kindness is a thing forgotten in the distant past,
Hiding from people harassed.
These are the grey streets
That crisscross our cities, rain coming down in sheets,
Poverty reigning just as heavy.
psychopaththe smooth icepsychopath2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of a grey blade
the coarse textures
of a twisted rope
the silken give
to perfect flesh
in a mind empty
n o h a t e . . .
but the cold reality
of that fragile curtain
n o p l e a s u r e
but the ecstasy
of holding a life
between two worlds
living- no, surviving…
where nothing actually matters.
until the next source
the next object
provides an opportunity
in this, an existence
rendered in ash and coal
PoisonThere’s ice in my blood, in the blue veins,Poison3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
and Pain whips its scorching-hot reigns,
yanking and tightening its cruel hold
until my whole body grows very cold…
Licking crimson fire and creeping cobalt ice –
they clasp my limp body in an iron vice
so steel-strong and diamond-hard
that the black cords leave me scarred…
The fire drags me into the deep black,
the ice shows me memories of way back.
Colors dance before my feverish eyes
and images roam with deafening cries…
Voices softly whisper and gently plead,
but I can’t hear that they and their words bleed.
They don’t realize that this mortal disease
isn’t visible, nor recognized with ease…
Painful? Certainly. Serious? Yes. Deadly? Aye.
But completely hidden from the human eye.
Outside I’m calm, composed, but fake,
the true illness lying buried but awake…
A toxic poison slowly spreading to its goal,
eating, chipping away at my blackening soul,
and my weak, fluttering
cursive linessometimes I wonder what it iscursive lines2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
beneath my ribs
that beats and flutters so
and rises with the words
of a crooning song,
the lyrics a cry for freedom,
the notes a bid for flight
it feels as though it wants to burst,
(if it swells any more)
I will rise on its current
floating away in the wind,
the freest bird in the sky
but the cold of the world
drags me down;
the beat within the white cage
the fluttery throb of hope
all but lost
for though I reach out,
my fingers grazing the rough edges
of my unfulfilled dreams,
they tease my fumbling grasp
and withdraw out of reach
I wish to sing,
to let my voice be carried
to the ends of the world
as my inky fingers
dip again into the feathery depths
of my inspiration's well,
my fingerprints everywhere
I Will Love YouI remember that you and I loved each other once,I Will Love You3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
But oh, that fateful day… I've cried forever since.
You wounded me with a stab mortally deep,
And yet, I will love you, even in eternal sleep.
The gaping wound you left has failed to heal;
It plagues me with a pain I'll never cease to feel.
But I remember the green days of warmth and sun,
And am reminded that my love will ne'er be done.
Even in the deepest, darkest shadows of the night,
I will remember you as a white shining knight.
With that memory of you, my hope will restore,
And a bright faith will renew my love forevermore.
But even though you're my white knight no more,
And have turned black by opening that fatal door,
Even when your clothes have been soaked in blood,
I can see your true face, now buried 'neath evil's flood.
So when the last crimson tears have been cried
And the many innocent souls you "freed" have sighed;
When 666 shades of red are all that color the dawn,
Even then will my undying love live on and on and on.
Haiku 1Eyes black and flinty,Haiku 12 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
He watches you in the night,
Stopping hearts with fright.
Where you don't expect,
Around every dark corner,
He waits to catch you.
Ghost who haunts your dreams,
Creature of whispered legend,
He is Slenderman.
Untitled1.Untitled2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that we sense
like wings fluttering
in the shadows
or chest rising with the effort
so fragile in the wind
shards of memory
piercing the stillness
and screams silenced
the lashes to our eyes
hurt and bleed
and wound me
so close to breaking
I can see the cracks.
and begin to disintegrate
the holes patched
the pain "forgotten"
(as if things
like that can just go away)
I see light
cold and clear through dry eyelashes
whispers in the ink
and music that sings
darling and sweet
I see the light in your eyes
I hear your warm heart
I know your thoughts
…I feel you here
there it is
on the raven's wings:
on the feathers of pain
I can see the black
but always close
as a dream (nightmare)
I am not lost
I can see beauty
light is fun to watch…
dancing in the eddies
hands are warm
The Music of the Mind is a Beautiful Chaotic ThingA song, a melody, a verse, a tune,The Music of the Mind is a Beautiful Chaotic Thing2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
all the beautiful sounds a voice can croon
float on the wind like thin wisps of smoke,
calling, enfolding the listener in a swirling cloak,
all wistful and warm in its soaring beauty.
Weary words that wail and cold words that cry
sweep you along and make your soul fly high
with the dark lament of every emotion bitter,
and crystal tears make your eyes glitter
while they caress you with otherworldly glee.
In itself apparent, the music of the mind
sings in a voice with mist and mystery entwined.
It only sees in itself the swirling, frenzied color
and chaotic forms that cry out in squalor
among twisted words and thoughtless actions.
Arpeggios that rise and fall and soar and glide
catch and pull your whole being along for the ride.
They fill your mind to bursting with beauty sublime,
and make you want to dance till the end of time,
the waves of emotion driving you to distraction.
Shivers run up and down your spine as you sit still,
frozen in rapture, adori
Three in Five MinutesDream one was a bright white flashThree in Five Minutes2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
and sounds of things breaking
I opened my eyes and saw it all.
Now I think that it was me.
Dream two was my child yelling
"Where are you? Where are you?"
I opened my ears and heard it all.
Now I think that it was me.
Dream three was a sudden knocking
on the door in deepest dark.
I opened the door and saw nothing.
Now I think that it was me.
Fugaku and Mikoto: Moonlight SilverThe stars are bright tonight, Mikoto thought as she walked down the narrow street of the Hidden Leaf Village. The air was filled with the spicy scent of food being prepared nearby, and her stomach growled, as if to remind her she was starving... as she always was after a mission. He squeezed her hand and looked down at her, an amused light in his eyes.Fugaku and Mikoto: Moonlight Silver3 years ago in Romance More Like This
"Hungry?" he asked simply. He was a typical Uchiha, nothing too special. At least, that's what her friends would always say. "Sure, he's an exceptional shinobi, but all Uchiha are. You need someone with fire, Miko! Someone who won't bore you!"
"Very," she replied, giving him a coy smile. None of you know a thing in the world about Fugaku-kun, she thought. He has a fire that would crisp you all in an instant – literally. She smiled even wider at her private joke and put her arm through his so that she could walk closer to him.
She was strong – very strong. Being an Uchiha herself, she knew the stereotype th
DrowningDrowning in misery,Drowning2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I'm suddenly struck by depression
down in the depths of sorrow and guilt,
unable to forget or let go.
falling, groping into the darkness,
a demon waiting at the bottom
Unable to breathe, I can only die.
Drowning without you,
so far gone I can't remember your voice
It hurts, damnit, it hurts!
I can't see, but I can hear your laugh
Drowning, I reach out,
but you're too far away
No longer in contact, I feel it's been forever.
Unable to talk will we ever again?
Drowning, the fear choking me
you are my air, my dear.
Don't forget me, don't let go,
my eyes strain to see your face.
Drowning, I'm so cold
bones and blood tingling,
ice shimmering over my eyes
You're the only one who can warm my heart.
Pain.It's at times like these, when I'm surrounded by violence and conflict, that I wish everything we feel could be translated to mere physical pain. I wish that ache and sting and throb doesn't come from fickle emotions and betrayed relationships. Oh, that the weapons were mere swords or bullets, sheer force of will and strength of arm! But no. Instead, they are words, thoughts, feelings – things that tear and shred, wounding deeper than you can imagine, deeper still than anything made of substance…Pain.3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
No. Those wounds injure things not so easily mended…
Before they happen, when you are still naďve, they seem like slight trifles, insignificant fears that can surely never come to pass. But when they do, you gasp at their strength and ferocity, and you cry from the sting - no, the agony - of the pain they inflict. You are never the same, ever again. They change you without permission, leaving you slightly bitterer and a little more despairing, ch
ActorsActorsActors3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Audience watches the dazzling sight.
Stage hidden in misty haze,
Actors look about with dramatic gaze.
This incredible zeal,
This love of something so very real.
Still and gasping with the tension,
I play my part and await their reaction.
Before the applause,
The momentary shock of delight is the cause.
Because, you see, acting is an art:
Art, not science it takes talent.
So when people see that side of you
And like what they see and really do
That feeling of fulfillment in your heart,
Knowing that you did your part
Did it well, to your director's content
That is a gift: treasured, but never spent.
It's even better when you get no awards
Or even congratulations to your face;
No it's much better when all you hear
Are the whispered rumors in your ear,
Saying you made an impression towards
People with subtle daggers, not swords;
You were th
The DancerNo sound do her feet makeThe Dancer3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Nor are her hands empty
As she treads on the polished, springy floor.
Ever her toes and ankles ache,
And her knees hurt already –
They pay the price for her dreams to soar.
She turns the music on,
The piano plays with emotion,
And she becomes like a river's cold, clear water:
Fluidity, her slender arms don,
Her eyes blue as the ocean,
She begins her dance without a single totter.
Limbs begin to move in time,
Feet start their soft thumping,
Her whole body writhes in molten movement,
Her weaving and winding, sublime.
On each crescendo jumping,
And every moment whirling, she embodies lament.
She reaches out to an unknown,
But pulls back and crumbles.
From the motionless heap comes a little cry –
Up looks a teary face of stone,
A mix of genuine and scumble;
For she dances to escape, to run away, to fly.
Spins, twists and she's off balance,
But still moving, so painfully.
Aches in her hard muscles and willowy limbs
Make her wince in her stance,
And dance all the mo
I Never Said I Was Ordinaryyou look at me as if there are stars in my eyesI Never Said I Was Ordinary2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
blinding you with an unknown brilliance~
at least, unknown to me.
you say I don’t know it, but that I am wise
and I push you to the limits of resilience,
though I am too far gone to see.
you say the glimmer in my heart
shows itself in my written art,
yet I can’t see what it is I write,
as though my mind takes flight.
for though you see an innate beauty in me,
I only see what my eyes perceive~
if that is truth, then so be it.
I only see the world in its reality
with all the pain of humanity it can conceive
and the fleeting beauty within it.
my mind roams amongst the sea mist,
floating like a bird o’er the water, sun kissed
so yes, my eyes take on the absence
and glimmer with the reflection hence.
you say I am noble, radiating poise,
that I show a dignity born of confidence -
if I do, it was born of a once profound disquiet.
you say my voice is light and lilting, a sweet noise,
that my words leave you listening in suspense
First KissThe moment I saw him, my heart did something it had never done before. Not that what happened was biologically unique but it was the first time I felt it stop. Not like a word, where you can just cut it off; not like a thought, where you can banish it to a depth in your mind that allows for no return; not like a book, which you can suddenly slam shut. It stopped the way a light bulb is turned off: most of the light fading all at once, but the remnants of glow dwindling slowly from the tiny wire. It stopped like the end of a song, when the bass note continues to echo in your ear, slowly losing its volume until you can no longer detect it. My heart tingled as it stopped. And jumped to life again as I saw him look up and recognize my car.First Kiss2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
He was standing there, next to the road, waiting for me to appear around the bend, his breath making writhing clouds that haloed his face. Lights from a house shone behind
Patient - Part 1The locker banged closed and she winced, taking a shallow breath. Her head hurt worse today, a dull throbbing that reverberated in her skull like the ring of a pick striking stone in a vast cave. The roar of conversation in the hall around her didn't help matters either.Patient - Part 12 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
She turned and made her way toward her next class as fast as she could to escape the deafening noise, holding her notebooks and textbooks clutched to her chest. Breathing a sigh of relief once the door closed behind her, she chose a seat in the far back, where she could listen but not be distracted and – more importantly – not have to speak.
Not that speaking wasn't a good thing in terms of grades… it was just that speaking meant eyes on her – it meant more stress and more effort. And she just didn't have the energy for it today.
She shook her head, trying to clear it of the uncharacteristic thoughts plaguing her mind, and realized she had made a mistake. With a soft, involuntary moan, she
DarkTo be called a child of the dark Dark3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
One of pure shadow and no spark
Is an honor of the highest order.
It means I have reached my goal:
I've sown and reaped my crop of disorder.
Those who don't understand me,
They who hunt me down cruelly,
Miss the delight I take in my work.
That sweet taste of blood and victory,
On my tongue I shiver with a smirk.
Even I don't see how far I've fallen,
And now I'm lost in insanity's fen.
For to be this lost in the black,
You must be ready to fail or die,
And your aching thirst mustn't slack.
Your goal must be strong and true
But not of the kind that poets coo.
No, its purpose must lead you down
A road of blood, revenge and depravity.
Take care, though, for you may drown.
The lake of Immorality doesn't allow
Just anyone to swim; few does it avow.
Your steps must be steady and sure,
And the path you walk all yours
No one else may fall prey to its allure.
You must have wholly wrathful eyes
And a gruesomely grinn
balloons and fairy wingsI wish emotionsballoons and fairy wings2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
could be tied to words
the way they're tied
like the way strings
are tied to balloons
or the way wings
are tied to fairies’ backs –
with a bow and a knot
so the words
are never forgotten
and the emotions
that swayed the heart
and captured the soul
at the time of their birth
are never lost to the snatching,
jealous fist of time
you see, it’s quite a journey
being born as a writer’s words:
you open your eyes
to a world of vivid color
feeling the sharpness of reality
hearing the noise
of a deaf world weeping
tasting the tang
of a new infant breathing old air
and noticing the scent
of a cruel, unsympathetic universe
an infant word
is like an infant star:
when you grow
(and become loved
by your Creator)
you mature to shine
with your own beauty –
to which very few things
can ever compare
yet you are distant
and your light so very cold…
but I love you
(and the stars)
Paradise.My arms ache from digging throughParadise.3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
rough and ruin, in search of
I saw it in a whispered dream,
there, nothing hurt;
we were unspoken.
With winter came warmth and summer snow,
And nothing died, just ceased to
walk with me
ShortsA man walks into a bar with his dog, only to have the bartender see him and say, "I'm sorry sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave, not pets allowed."Shorts2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The man walks out dejectedly and sees another man about to walk in with his dog.
"The bartender just kicked me out for bringing my dog, he's going to kick you out, too."
The other man smiles and replies, "Watch this."
He walks in with his dog, and the bartender says something, pointing to the door. The other man holds up his hands and says something, motioning to the dog. The bartender shrugs and holds up his hands in apology. The man with his dog stays and has a drink, then leaves.
The other man had been waiting outside and seen the whole thing. Shocked, he asks the other guy, "How did you do that?"
The other man smiles and explains, "I just told him that the dog was my seeing eye dog."
That's genius! Why didn't I think of that? thought the other man.
He then proceeds to put on his sun glasses and walk in with his dog.
StagesGrief is not something you can just "deal with." It hitches in your throat. Spreads its cold fingers over your skin and doesn't let go. Takes a hold of you that's so strong, you shake and tremble but can't get free. Tears are no comfort. All they do is leave you exhausted. All you can do, in the end, is moan and scream until your voice is gone and your heart is cold. Dead in all but reality.Stages2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
That's stage 1.
Grief has a way of chilling you so much that you get too numb to feel anything. You become a zombie, going through your life as if it's all just a routine: meaningless. The only reason you do it is so that, at the end of the day, you can shut yourself off and scream. And no one will care because you have no obligations. You shun everyone close to you because every kind word and every troubled look is either pity or arrogance. You don't need their help. And they're arrogant if they think they can understand. Or help.
That's stage 2.
Grief festers. It rots you from the
Colorful SorrowOrange clouds,Colorful Sorrow3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Stone grey life,
Green mist haze,
Full pink lips,
Cold hard mind,
Words so kind
Ties to sever
Time's a blur,
Are you sure?
Blank fear grips
Sad little song
A voice crying
Long thin sighs,
Red and BlackRed the color of blood and black the color of darkness –Red and Black3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
What a sharp, what a ragged, what a gruesome pair they make.
Wrapping their wings around the unaware,
Clawing the faces of fools with pointed nails,
They prey on the weak.
They twine their spindly arms in a broken dance
And their unshapely feet move in unordered movement
As they waltz the night away, until the moon sets
And dawn chases them away into the depths of night
From whence they came.
Fallen minds and shattered souls are their foremost victims,
The ones who choose the deep chill and frozen air of Hell
Rather than the raging light and holy heat of Paradise;
These are the ones who wish for that which is most depraved,
They who love the Reaper.
They walk the crooked paths in the shadows of dusk
And cloak themselves in devious dishonor and the worst of intentions,
Bearing the names of God's forsaken and men's forgotten.
These are the wearers of splattered red and dripping black,
The colors of sin and depravity.
MemoriesHe startled her as he came around the bend, emerging from the small copse of trees like a wraith emerging from a deep shadow. She stopped walking and stared at him, her heartbeat quickening in fright.Memories2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
But as he stepped into the light of the street lamp that stood only a few feet behind her, she realized his face was familiar.
"Hayden?" she asked hesitantly, the incredulity and utter shock at his being there evident in her voice.
"Hey, Kisa," he said, a slight smile turning up the corners of his mouth. There was a familiar light in his brown eyes that warmed her heart in the remembering. They had not been close friends; even so, seeing him filled her with a sense of relief. Ever since leaving home, she had been lonely, having not previously known anyone here before she moved. Her world had completely changed in the space of a few short weeks, and now she felt so alone.
In that moment, she realized she didn't care that he hadn't been a very close friend; she was just happy to see an